The Weight of Worlds
by likegallows
Summary: Another triumph echoed across the field, whoops of congratulations. Sounds of life. They pierced the air and the Ghost King smiled. They were beautiful, all of them. Beautiful. Each and every one of them.


It never crossed his mind that when the dust settled, he would still be alive.

He'd made his peace with death a long time ago, after all.

But he stood on blood soaked earth contributing to the gore himself, clutching a wound so large he didn't hazard a look in case it told him anything other than he was alive right then, and looked around. For the first time in he couldn't remember how long (years), he stood in the sun but he truly felt its rays. It warmed him to his centre.

A whoop tore across the field, challenging the silence settling. It was joined by others, one another another, male and female. Picking his way across a battle field strewn with disintegrating monsters, the Earth mother slept once more. Nico didn't answer the winning cry, but others did. Seven in total. But he made his way carefully, taking the long way around, because lifting his knee too high pulled the muscles in his side and the blood pulsed a little faster through his fingers.

"Take that, Mulch Mouth!" Leo was shouting to the sleeping goddess.

The Ghost King approached, watching the seven as they threw their arms around one another, one after the other. Frank kissed Hazel, hugged Leo, embraced Jason, high fived Piper, nearly picked Percy up off the ground and smiled at Annabeth. The others were in the midst of their own rejoicing, the weight lifting from their shoulders, fists pumping in the air and high fives all around.

"I-i can't believe it. It's over… I didn't think we'd get this far." Piper sighed, crossing her arms as if to hold her own small frame together. It wasn't something any of them had admitted along the way but they'd all been thinking it. That someone wouldn't make it. That they might not be successful.

"We're all here. All of us." Annabeth's and Jason's hair caught the sun, blonde turning gold in the light, a halo diverging from the dark hanging over everything. They were like two angels warring against the shadows.

Was it dark? The shadows were shifting but he wasn't calling them to him. Maybe it was just Nico's vision getting a bit hazy around the edges. He held the flesh at his side a little harder, willing the pieces knit back into place. Instead, they bled. But they hurt a little less. That was something, at least.

It wasn't the brightest thing, though, her hair. No. The most brilliant of all was the first smile he'd seen from Percy since the demigod had returned from Tartarus. He'd nearly forgotten how straight his teeth were and how the white contrasted the forever sun kissed glow of his skin, more vital with a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Nico could practically feel the beating of the boy's heart from where he stood, his legs no longer taking him forward.

Another triumph echoed across the field, whoops of congratulations. Sounds of life. They pierced the air and the Ghost King smiled. They were beautiful, all of them. He blinked a few times, his vision only partially clouded from the tears in his eyes. Beautiful. Each and every one of them.

"Where's Nico?" Hazel asked. Her voice carried, silky and soft like the warm milk his mother used to give him before bed on the nights he couldn't sleep.

Seven sets of eyes found the Ghost King as his knees gave out.

But they looked so beautiful. All of them.

He hit the ground with a smile.

There were two funerals, one hosted for each of the camps. Greek and Roman. They were coordinated a few days apart to allow time for travel and grieving; more than just the seven wanted to mourn and honour their fallen comrades regardless of parentage.

The boys and girls of the prophecy were not the only ones with blood spilled on a battle field. The Roman forces had been closing in on Camp Half Blood prior to the delivery of the Athena Parthenos and they had been ready for war, not with the Earth mother but with other demigods. Reyna, Hedge and Nico had arrived just in time and hours after peace was forged between the two camps, it was solidified in their blood.

Greek and Roman fought side by side. Died side by side. Mourned side by side.

It was logical then, Annabeth had said whilst speaking with Chiron through tears over Iris Message, that Camp Half Blood host the first services. They would be back as quick as they could. Chiron had agreed. And they had travelled at speed, sometimes by sea with Percy urging the waters throw them forward at speeds they couldn't dream of, and other times with Leo tinkering with the engine and sails and Festus allowing Jason to give him the occasional nudge. They arrived in four days time with minimal monster attacks. Maybe they knew there were seven powerful demigod children, heard rumours of the power of children of the Big Three and knew their patience would be worn thin.

Why tempt the fates?

They were back in four days.

Hazel, Piper and Annabeth were off the moment their feet hit the ground. It was important, Hazel had said, as a child of Pluto that she help tend the dead. To wash and anoint them, and adorn them as was custom with green wreaths. Their bodies were robed and displayed, drachma over their eyes as payment for the next step of their journey, ready for the ferryman. There were no parents to stand around the brier swathed in dark robes, leading the grieving, because the war was over and the gods were busy once more.

Uninvolved.

Detatched.

It wasn't fair and it wasn't right, but it was cyclical. It wasn't the first war and it wouldn't be the last. Sisters stood for brothers, and brothers stood for sisters, their pain on show for everyone. They stood silently, sobbed openly, ground their teeth in anger. They said goodbye to their friends, or family, or people they hardly knew. Then they gave their offerings.

Three days later at Camp Jupiter, the Romans followed their own customs of grieving. The seven stood hand in hand, saying goodbye once more. It didn't hurt any less. Even for the ones they didn't have names for. Percy knew he should have had names, even for the ones he'd known a short time. He should have. He couldn't forget about them, not with the way he'd forgotten about Nico.

No one deserved that.

They never did, but it happened anyway.

The waters were always impassioned after that, his tendency as temperamental as the waves in his company. Choppy; not placid, glass smooth like before. The tide was always strong and the undercurrent a little too swift. Where the ocean would once placate in his presence, it surged and bubbled, frothing at his feet churning up things long lost to the deep.

Annabeth stood behind Percy. They owed one another that, to try anything because they'd been through everything. She tried to quiet his mind but fissures grow in the ground with the right amount of pressure. They drifted as slowly as diverging plates at the ocean's bottom and two summers later they stood on opposite sides of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge.

"I'm going to college, Perce. I have to do this for myself."

"I know."

"I thought… maybe I could wait a little longer. But I think I need to do this for myself. It's been so long since we've done _anything_ for ourselves and it feels like we've been holding our breath since we were eleven and I just need t—"

"Go. You deserve this."

He'd turned away from looking out on the coast but his eyes hadn't been that bright sea green since Gaea. They were the turbid grey green of tropical storms and siren ravaged tides. Sometimes he'd get that look, a hint of a smile, a memory of himself but it was fleeting and went just as quickly. Annabeth kissed his cheek, whispered 'good luck' and he didn't see her again. It was as much of a goodbye as they needed. Percy returned to twirling his pen between his fingers.

Maybe she didn't mean for it to be one, but Poseidon's son had known it for what it was.

The final word to a chapter long needing closure.

A wave crashed down on the beach, twelve feet tall, and Percy didn't budge. He let it crash down on him and flood the shore up into the line of trees. A few dryads shrieked and turned into trees, rooting themselves in place, sputtering as soon as the water had receded once more. Percy stood dripping and laughed, a strangled noise almost like choking. It shook his shoulders and wracked his body.

The shadows shifted; he noticed it out of the corner of his eye but didn't move.

"You should go after her."

"I can't."

"Why not?" The shade slid next to him, dark hair shielding even darker eyes.

"Because she's been standing this side the River without a drachma for too long. She can pay the ferryman, now, Neek. She needs to move on. Learn to live again."

"And you?" Tilting his head up, he rocked his weight backwards and forth onto the ball of his feet.

Percy folded his arms across his chest. His shoulders were still shaking and his hair was dripping so when he caught Nico's eye, it was impossible to tell if the moisture was from the sea or from tears.

"Guess I'll be here with you, waiting."

The corners of the teen's mouth turned up, standing just a little straighter. The son of Hades reached out to touch Percy's cheek and the icy thrill, familiar but winsome, ignited his insides. A chain reaction that would not be stopped. The older demigod surged forward, restless as the sea, and his lips crashed into the the bank that was Nico's mouth, soft and warm and supple. The son of Hades, pulled him closer, embedding him.

Sometimes the sea crashed upon the land. And sometimes the earth shook loose from the mountains.

Sometimes, people had to crash and break down.

Their mouths were greedy, tongues covetous as they slipped past lips eliciting whimpers and quick exhales of breath. Fingers found hair and grappled, hands found hips and pulled them closer. Percy kept moving in like the tide and Nico was the welcoming shore, letting himself be chartered. His body quaked as his breath was stolen and Percy slid his hand a little lower, Nico riding the surf until the swell and weak with want, he'd anchored himself to Percy.

They made port in one another's arms, Nico with the taste of the sea on his tongue and Percy spineless on his back.

The waters were always impassioned but where Annabeth attempted to coerce calm, Nico would weather the whirpool and wash back to shore.

"So beautiful," the Ghost King whispered. "Now sleep."


End file.
